You're Roast Beef
by Mistress of Craziness
Summary: Ron tries to tell Hermione how much he loves her the best way he can: with a food analogy. RWHG. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: **It ain't mine, I tells ya! I swears it! Ya'll can't take me alive, ya pigs! I done nutten wrong, ya hear?

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_You're Roast Beef_

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"Ron, how much do you love me?"

Hermione knew it was completely out of the blue, but the question had been prying at her for quite sometime, and she desperately needed to know his answer for some bizarre reason she didn't quite fully understand. And what better time to ask him than when they were sitting out by the lake, alone, her body cradled in his arms?

Ron looked down at her, chuckling discreetly. "Uh, a lot," he said as if she just asked him what the answer to two plus two was.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and groaned. "I know _that_. But tell me, how much is 'a lot'?"

He gave her a funny look. "I'm not quite following you."

She sighed, annoyance clearly readable. "I mean, how much am I worth in your life? Do you love me more than some things, and less than other? Am I the most important person, or do others beat me? Honestly, it's simple: what am I to you, exactly? How much do you love me?"

By the look on his face, Ron seemed to become more and more appalled with each passing question, but he seemed to have realized what she was asking him. Hermione questioned his disgusted looks as a good sign or not, and waited with every ounce of patience she had for him to respond. It took several minutes of prolonged silence and concentrated expressions for him to finally speak.

"Hermione," he started slowly, "how could you ask me things like that?"

"Don't answer my questions with another question," Hermione grumbled abruptly.

His eyes widened. "But those are horrible things to ask me! Do you really think I-"

"Just answer me, Ron," she cried, irritated and confused at the fact that he wouldn't just tell her already.

For one short duration, Hermione became aware of her subconscious, and wondered what she been so unknowingly fearing and why this specific question had been bothering her so: what if he didn't love her as much as she thought he did? What if that was why he was stalling, and he didn't know how to break it to her? What if Quidditch _was_ more important to him than her...? What if there was someone else? What would she do then?

The doubt disappeared from the controlled part of her brain as quickly as it had appeared, however, and she was able to think logically once more - Ron loving Quidditch more than her? That was mental talk! And who else could there possibly be? Hermione and Ron had spent pretty much every waking moment together since they confessed to one another their feelings; he would never have enough time to be sneaking around without her knowing. How foolish of her to even consider such things!

Still, the uncertainty lingered in the back of her mind, even if she didn't quite acknowledge it.

"Hermione," Ron spoke up, tearing her away from her thoughts. She stared up at him, having turned away without realizing it. He was smiling tentatively. "How much do I love you?" _Yes, Ron, that's what I asked!_ she inwardly yelled. "I guess..." He hesitated. "Well, the best way I can put it is that... I love you like... roast beef... Yeah," his voice risen with confidence, "you're roast beef to me. _That's _how much I love you."

Hermione blinked, her eyebrows furrowing; out of all the answers there were, she was not expecting something like _that_. Maybe she _was_ as foolish as she led herself not to believe...

"Pardon?"

"Y'know, roast beef? It kind of tastes like-"

"I know what roast beef is," she hissed. "I'm just perplexed that you would compare me to something as unrefined as dinner."

"But it's not just any dinner - it's roast beef!" He said it as if it were the most wonderful thing a human being could ever utter; as if he was expecting her to fling her arms around his neck at any given time, and smother him with kisses because of how romantic he was. Hermione, still not fully comprehending what he was going for, remained motionless, bewildered at the direction this conversation was headed and shocked at what she was to him. Honestly, roast beef?

Who was the other woman? Lavender?

"Ron, either enlighten me or I'm leaving."

"Wait, no, don't leave!" His grip around her tightened, and Hermione, despite herself, smiled softly at his reaction. That concentrated look on his face appeared once again, now with added urgency as if he didn't figure out an explanation fast, she would vanish forever. "How can I explain this without sounding like a complete idiot?" he whispered, more to himself. Hermione waited. And though she was rather offended with his words, she was curious as to what exactly he was going for here, and was going to be polite and give him the proper time to defend himself.

Still, it would be astonishing if he's able to actually come up with a good enough reason as to why he's comparing her to a slab of meat.

"Okay," he began, taking a deep breath, "I'm not saying I love you as much as roast beef, because that's ridiculous; I'm saying you're _the _roast beef in my life. Roast beef is my favorite dinner. Every time Mum made it, I would be so thrilled because it's just so amazing. Sure, you got the potatoes, the biscuits, the green beans too - I loved them as well, much like I love Harry, my family, and everyone else. But the roast beef... that's what I loved the most; where all my attention was directed; why I ran down the stairs three steps at a time when I heard dinner was ready, and it was roast beef night. I love roast beef more than any other dinner, more than any other food... much as I love you more than anyone else, _anything _else... that's how much I love you... that's why you're roast beef..."

Hermione became oddly quiet after this, digesting his words each syllable at a time. Ron looked worried at her lack of response, but waited just the same.

However, after a complete minute of nothing, he was just about to confirm that he blown it, that she deserved someone who could actually give her proper compliments and who was more romantic, when she let out a suppressed squeal, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately on the mouth. Ron's eyes widened with surprise, and it took him a good five seconds to get over the initial daze before he could kiss her back.

They reluctantly pulled away after a while, both having to catch their breaths.

"Wow," Ron said, bemused. "That was... wow... where did that come from?"

"Ron Weasley," she breathed, her eyes twinkling, a broad grin across her lips, "you are the only person I know who could take something as gauche as roast beef, and turn it into one of the most amorous things I have ever heard in my entire life. How you did that is beyond my comprehension, but you managed it somehow." Her lips briefly met his once again, this time more tender than passionate, before she nestled herself contently against his chest.

Yes, she had been _very _foolish to doubt him.

Comfortable silence formed between the pair as they both watched the water dance along with the soothing breeze, the sun beaming down upon it, making it shine with sparkles.

Suddenly, Ron began to fidget under her.

"Hermione?"

"Hm?"

A slight pause. Then, "How much do you love me?"

Hermione looked up into his eyes, brown connecting with blue, before she answered seriously, "You're my buffet with a never ending stock of shrimp," and then turned her attention back towards the gorgeous view.

Ron, seeming satisfied with her reply, rested his head on top of her bushy-hair.

Food analogies were so romantic.

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**A/N: **I don't know where this came from... I was just sitting there, eating, when I started thinking about how much Ron loves food... and how much he loves Hermione... and _BAM_, it hit me. Seriously, this was the most random idea ever, but I like it. I mean, really, who else but Ron could take food and make it as cute as that? I'm not sure exactly where this is suppose to be set as of timeline wise, but I guess you can say during seventh year, after all the war and what not. Whatever floats your boat, I guess. Imagine what you want, foos. And be sure to review to tell me your thoughts. Was it perfectly sweet? Too sweet? Not sweet enough? I should burn in Hell for being so sickly sweet? Come on, people, help a sista out! Oh, and I guess I have weird disclaimers... hehe, what can I say? _Disclaimers are fun to make! _


End file.
